New Hope
by unpredictablemary
Summary: Do Matthew and Mary have a reason to find hope after the events of 3x05? Love, angst and baby drama, and lots of appearances by other characters. :) Canon through 3x05, then my own take on how things might have gone for the Crawleys.
1. Chapter 1

Matthew awoke in the early morning to the unpleasant sound of retching in the next room. He sat up groggily and realized that Mary was gone. He threw on his robe and rushed to the bathroom, where he found his wife bent over the toilet.

"Darling! Darling, are you all right?"

Mary nodded and held up a hand; she vomited again. After a moment, she swallowed and straightened up to look at him. Matthew was staring at her with a very particular expression on his face. Mary uncomfortably slid her arms around her waist, hugging herself; she felt bare under his gaze. She could read his thoughts, and she didn't want to hear him voice them.

"It can't be," she said before he could speak. Matthew stepped towards her, but she backed away, shaking her head. "It's not," Mary declared, as if she could make it true if she said it firmly enough. "It's not. Not now."

"But Mary—"

"It's not." Mary walked to the sink and rinsed her mouth out. She felt another wave of nausea arise that had nothing to do with why she was throwing up. She swallowed hard.

"But if it is—"

"Well , we won't know for a few weeks, anyway," Mary said. "So let's just forget about it." With a hard look, she pushed past Matthew to their bedroom.

Matthew stood there for a moment before he followed his wife back to bed. Such joy was unthinkable at a time like this; in the wake of Sybil's death, he had almost forgotten about his anxiety to begin a family. But even so, it now felt as if a small seed of warmth had been planted in his chest. He hardly dared hope, but hope he did as he returned to their room.

In the days following Sybil's death, Mary had found a myriad of ways to keep herself occupied. Although she enjoyed making herself useful to the family, her motives were mainly selfish: if she was active, it was harder for the grief to catch her. If she was active, at least she was doing _something _productive. And if she was active, it was a little bit like she was living for both of them. She was emulating Sybil, carrying on her spirit of helpfulness, and she was also _living _instead of hiding. She was carrying on. For Sybil never would have wanted them to give up their lives. That was one thing Mary was sure about.

One of her new pastimes was walking, and she and Matthew had taken to strolling around the property almost every day. It had started with a need to get out of the house, but now Mary quite enjoyed their routine, at least as much as she enjoyed anything lately. She liked to keep moving, anyway, and getting out in the fresh air with Matthew always made her feel a little better.

"A storm is coming," Matthew observed as they made their way across the grass towards the woods that morning. There were indeed ominous clouds in the distance, and the wind was picking up. Weather wasn't something Mary cared much about anymore. If she got wet, she got wet. The true storm in their lives had already come and gone, and they were left drenched in its wake.

"Probably," Mary said, just to say something. It had been awkward between them since Matthew had found her in the bathroom that morning. It was the fourth day in a row that Mary had awoken feeling ill, and until this morning, Mary had been lucky that Matthew had not been woken by her trips to the toilet. But now he knew, although Mary hadn't told him about the three previous days. She knew that would cement the evidence in his mind, and she wasn't ready for that yet. She wasn't ready for anything yet.

Distracted by her thoughts, Mary tripped over a branch lying on the path. Matthew jumped to grab her arm as she stumbled to regain her balance.

"Are you all right?" he asked with alarm, gripping her arm tightly and looking as concerned as if she'd almost fallen off a cliff.

"I'm fine," Mary said, fixing him with a steely look. She pulled her arm away. "You don't have to treat me like I'm fragile just because I was sick this morning."

_Just because you think I'm pregnant. _The unsaid words loomed much larger between them than the said. They walked a few steps in silence, their feet crunching on the ground. Mary knew what was coming, and she didn't want to talk about it. Her throat ached.

"But my darling, if—"

"If what, Matthew?" Mary stopped walking and turned to face him, her eyes flashing.

"Mary…."

"What?"

"Well, if it is… our child in there.…" In spite of Mary's anger, Matthew's voice turned tender. He trailed off and reached out a tentative hand to her stomach. For the briefest of moments, Mary's heart swelled as she watched him touch her. He was looking at her body with an expression of such love on his face, and indeed this was all Mary had longed for over the past months. But things were different now, she reminded herself in the same cold tone she used with her husband. She pulled her mind back to reality and took a step away from Matthew, breaking the spell.

"If it is, how can we be happy?" She threw her words at him.

"Mary, if it really is—"

"If it is, I don't know that I want it to be!"

Matthew stared at her as if she had slapped him. Mary wanted to cry, ashamed of herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She turned away, wanting to put more distance between herself and her husband.

"Mary! How on earth can you say that?"

"How can't I?" Mary shouted, whirling around. Her voice was ragged and for the first time since the night of her sister's death she felt out of control. "You saw what happened to Sybil! How can I possibly do it? After watching her die!" Mary's voice was deep and raw; it shuddered around the words, but she said them without flinching. "I was already terrified and now—! Did you really expect me to rejoice if I fell pregnant?"

They looked at each other, her words hanging in the space between them. Mary cried openly, without bothering to wipe her tears or try to stop the hitching of her breath. She just stared at Matthew. She felt helpless. Matthew covered his face with his hands and Mary knew he was crying, too. She had such a talent for sinking them even deeper whenever things were already bad, Mary thought bitterly. But she didn't know what else to say.

After a moment, Matthew wiped his eyes, went to his wife and took her by both arms. She was shaking; Matthew wasn't sure if she had ever felt more fragile in his arms.

"If, Mary, anything were to happen, we would know what to do," he said. "Dr. Clarkson will be there. I will not allow a single person to doubt his word. I would not wait a single second in taking action for your safety. You know that. But, my darling, everything will be all right. That kind of thing is very rare. It's not going to happen to you."

"You don't know that," Mary said.

"No, I don't," Matthew replied honestly. "And I'm terrified, too. Can you imagine what I would do if—" He closed his eyes and swallowed before continuing. "My god, Mary, it's my worst nightmare. But nothing will happen," he continued firmly. "Are we never to have a family because of this?" he asked, dipping his head to meet her eyes. "That's not what Sybil would have wanted."

Mary turned her head to the side. "But how can I?" she asked. "I'm frightened, Matthew."

"We must find a way to be happy, Mary," he replied. "Happy in spite of all the pain. We must rejoice in new life. We must continue on, continue living. That's what Sybil would want us to do."

Mary nodded. "It wasn't just today," she whispered. Her fingers played with his buttons as she spoke, and she watched her hand instead of meeting his eyes.

"What?"

"It wasn't just today. I've been sick the last four mornings."

"Oh, Mary," Matthew breathed. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and she finally looked at him. The fear was still in her eyes, but it mingled with something else now. "Are you saying—is it certain?"

"I don't know," Mary said. "I have to wait and see."

"How long until you know?"

"A week and a half, maybe. But Dr. Clarkson said…"

"Dr. Clarkson said?" Matthew looked into her eyes very intently.

"It is likely. Unless I am throwing up from grief, there is no other explanation," Mary said with a bitter laugh. "And it is only in the morning. That's usually the first sign."

"Oh, my darling. Oh, Mary!" Matthew hugged her hard, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He squeezed her so tightly he lifted her off the ground, and Mary laughed in spite of herself.

"I don't want to tell anyone yet," Mary said. "I don't know for certain, and things do happen…. I couldn't bear it if Mama were to suffer any kind of disappointment."

"Of course," Matthew said. He looked at her tenderly. "Oh, my darling wife," he murmured. Their lips met, and although Mary was still scared and sad and guilty, she let herself lean into his kiss. Matthew pulled away. "Are you all right?"

"I'm scared," Mary said truthfully. "A part of me wishes it weren't now. I was angry at first," she admitted with a bitter laugh. "But it is… it is what I wanted. I don't know that I will get over my terror until the baby is safely in my arms, but I can't say that a part of me isn't happy."

"We'll do it together," Matthew said firmly. "It will be all right. I'll make sure nothing happens to you. To either of you," he added, and they smiled at each other. "I promise."

Mary nodded. Matthew's gaze drifted down her body with something like wonder, and he slowly undid the buttons on her coat. He slid his hands underneath it, across her warm stomach, and held them there tightly. Mary covered his hands with hers.

Matthew's eyes were misty as his wife kissed him again. In one way, it seemed very wrong, that they should know such joy so soon after Sybil's death. He understood why Mary felt guilty, afraid to be happy and afraid to have the baby. He was afraid, too. But in another way, it seemed so right. Another life was entering the home as one life left it; they had something to give them light in the midst of all this darkness. Something to make sure they would carry on. It was the kind of thing Sybil would have planned if she could have, and Matthew almost wondered if she had, from wherever she was now.

He sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he took Mary's arm and they turned back towards the house. The months ahead would not be easy; Matthew knew this would not be the last argument they would have about the child, nor the end of Mary's anxiety. He himself would have to fight not to be wracked by fear, even as he reassured his wife that everything would be all right. But life was short; it had been proven to them once again. When they got a chance at happiness, they had to embrace it. That was something else he and Mary had learned together. So they would carry on. They would take this small bit of light offered out of the dark, and they would use it to build something new.

Matthew smiled down at Mary, and he was happy when she returned the look.

"It will be all right, my darling," Matthew said.

"I hope so," Mary replied.

Mary's words held more worry than they did happiness, but Matthew's smile did not leave his face. Maybe hope was enough for now.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! This was going to be a one-shot, but I might continue it with more chapters. Hope you enjoyed it! As always thanks for reviews! x_


	2. Chapter 2

It had been ten days since Sybil's death, and six days since Mary had first awoken with nausea. It would be four more days before she could reasonably expect her monthly cycle to begin, if it was going to begin. Mary's life had turned into some sort of morbid countdown. Everything was now measured in relation to her heartbreak and her hope. Sunday and Monday and Tuesday didn't matter anymore, only that it had been eight, now nine, now ten days without Sybil. Mary's acute awareness of the passing days was only heightened by the possibility of a baby. She hated every day that took her farther away from Sybil, but at the same time, Mary wanted time to speed up. She wanted to know.

In spite of all her fears, Mary frequently caught herself thinking about the baby as if it were certain. Her consciousness was already shifting to accommodate the idea that there was another person inside of her. She tried to reel in her thoughts when this happened, but she had a hard time stopping it. Twice before since their marriage, Mary had thought she could be pregnant, but she had never felt like this. Then, it had always been based on factual evidence—a late period. Now, Mary _felt_ it, somewhere deep inside. She would have a hard time believing it if she began bleeding in four days. And so, against her better judgment, she had allowed the idea of a baby to solidify into something real in her mind.

Even still, Mary had been avoiding the topic with Matthew. She had kept him at a distance since Sybil's death, letting him comfort her, but talking to him very little; letting him sleep next to her, but nothing more. This morning when he had tried to ask her if she had had any more morning sickness, she had fairly turned him out the room rather than answer. Mary felt resentful of Matthew and his simple happiness. Mary could not let in her own joy without also letting in her fear. Matthew didn't have to give birth, and she did. It wasn't his fault, but it was true.

Mary was meditating on this as Anna dressed her for dinner, wondering if she was being altogether fair to him. It had been a few days since their walk in the woods, and she knew Matthew was dying to talk about the baby. Matthew always wanted to talk. Mary laughed a little to herself. It was perhaps both her husband's most endearing and annoying quality.

"Milady?" Anna asked, and Mary realized Anna was looking at her curiously. "Am I doing something funny?"

"Oh, no, Anna," Mary replied with a laugh. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something else."

"It's good to see you smiling," Anna said. She met Mary's eyes in the mirror. "We're all rooting for you," she said softly. "Downstairs. Maybe I shouldn't say, but everyone is awfully shaken up. Daisy keeps asking me how you're getting on."

Mary smiled. "How sweet." She watched Anna pin her silky hair into place, waiting for the wave of sadness to pass. She took a breath. "Anna, I think I might be—"

"Yes, milady?" Anna looked up. Mary's face was frozen; she hadn't realized that was going to come out of her mouth. She hadn't truly said it out loud yet, not even to Matthew. She didn't know if she wanted to. Anna set down the hairbrush and faced Mary. "Lady Mary?"

"Pregnant."

Anna's hand flew to her mouth. Mary nodded slowly, looking almost helpless with one eyebrow lifted and a fearful expression in her eyes. "I think I might be pregnant," she said again.

"Oh, milady!" Anna breathed. "Do you really think so?"

Mary nodded, feeling tears spring into her eyes. "I really do. I don't know for certain yet," she amended. "I have to wait. But I think so."

Anna's eyes were misty, too, and suddenly Mary stood and threw her arms around her. She cried into Anna's shoulder, and Anna squeezed her tightly.

"Oh, Anna," Mary said. "What am I going to do?"

Anna released her and raised her hands to Mary's cheeks. The expression on her face was so familiar, so encouraging and caring, that Mary let her trembling lips form a smile.

"You're going to have a baby," Anna said, her mouth lifting into a half-smile. "And you're going to be just fine. I'll be here the whole time to help you. And so will Mr. Crawley and Lord and Lady Grantham, you know that. You're not to worry, milady."

"Anna," Mary said, "I have to say that I don't know what I would do without you."

Anna smiled. "Now dry your tears," she replied. "I haven't even finished your hair yet. And be happy, milady. I'm happy for you."

Mary gave her a true smile and sat back down, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Anna. I am happy," she sniffed, laughing as she began to cry again. She realized as she spoke the words how true they were. "But I'm afraid I _am_ worried. I don't know how not to be."

"What does Mr. Crawley say? Have you told him? Oh, dear," Anna cried as she dropped a hair pin on the ground. "I'm so excited, my fingers are shaking!" They both laughed.

"He's thrilled," Mary replied in a dry voice. "He says we have to embrace the happiness we've been given and not be afraid. He's right, I suppose. But it's different for him."

Anna nodded. "He's not the one having it." She glanced at Mary. "But he's the one who'd suffer more were anything to happen, in my judgment," she said. "He's got just as much reason to be scared, milady. And I think he is right. You can't think about that. You have to be happy."

"I suppose so."

"Mr. Crawley loves you. He wants a family, and so do you." Anna hesitated, but, meeting Mary's eyes in the mirror, she continued. "He's going to hate himself if you see it as a curse. That's the way I see it, anyway."

Mary nodded, and she was silent as Anna finished her hair. Anna was right, as usual. She had to face it, she had to let Matthew in. If she was pregnant, she would have to do give birth no matter how frightened she was, so she had to let him in. They would do it together, and she would face her fears but her happiness, too. She had been holding it in for so many days, hiding her emotions somewhere underneath her broken heart. It would almost be a relief to allow herself to feel it. Matthew would be relieved, she knew. He didn't deserve to have her push him away. Mary began to feel fidgety thinking about it, and she was relieved when she was finally allowed out of the chair.

"Thank you, Anna," she said. "For everything."

Anna dipped her head. "You'll tell me as soon as you know for certain?"

"Of course."

Anna squeezed Mary's hand before she left. Just as she reached the door, Matthew opened it, and Anna gave Mary a meaningful look as she stepped back for him to pass.

"Hello," Matthew said. "You look very nice."

"It's a new dress."

"Ah. Well, it's very pretty." Matthew sat down on the edge of the bed and consulted his watch. "Dinner is late tonight."

Mary nodded. She looked at her husband. How she loved his hair, loved running her hands through the blond waves, loved the way it flopped in front of his face when they were in bed. Would their baby have his hair? What if the baby was dark and pale like Mary? She couldn't decide if she wanted it to have her brown eyes or his beautiful blue ones. He looked up at her and her breath caught. His blue, Mary thought. They had to be blue.

"My darling?"

Mary realized she was staring at him. "Matthew." She twisted her hands, spinning her wedding ring around and around on her finger. "The morning sickness stopped—"

"What?" Matthew stood and took her hands. "What does that mean?"

"It stopped," Mary continued, "until this morning, after breakfast. I don't know what it means. I know what I hope it means."

"Do you? Hope it, that is?" Matthew searched her face intently, pressing her hands between his. "Mary?"

"I do," she said. "At least, I hope for it more than I don't hope for it. Is that good enough?"

Matthew kissed her hands. "Yes. I hope for it, too, my darling. More than you know."

"More than I know?" Mary's eyebrows rose briefly. She wondered. Four days ago she would have said that Matthew wanted the baby more than she did, but now…. She put a hand to her stomach.

"I wish we could speed up time," Matthew murmured. He pressed his lips to her temple, starting a trail of kisses down to her neck.

"So do I," Mary said. "But we can't. We just have to wait. Even then, it won't be certain for a while."

"I know it is stupid, but I can't help thinking you should be able to tell. If _our baby_ is really in there…."

Mary tipped her chin up and caught his lips softly between hers. She lingered there for a long moment. "Our baby," she repeated, pressing her forehead to his.

Matthew smiled. "Our baby."

"I feel so certain, Matthew," Mary said. She ran her hands up his arms, over his strong shoulders and into his hair. "I can't help but think it's in there. But I could be wrong. We mustn't get our hopes up."

"Right." Matthew nodded against her, their noses brushing. He pulled her to him. "We just have to wait and see."

Mary nodded. She put a hand to her flat stomach and looked down at it, trying to imagine it swollen and round.

"What would we call it?" Matthew asked, putting his hand on top of hers.

"Matthew, it is far too early to be talking about names," Mary reproached him. "It might not even exist; we can't name it now."

"You're right," he said. "But I can't help thinking…."

"I know. Me too," Mary admitted, and she held out her hand to him. "Come on, let's go down to dinner."

It might have been the fish soup, or perhaps the fact that Mary had been hit by a wave of sadness at seeing, once again, Sybil's empty place at the table (they had removed the extra chair, but the spot where she had usually sat remained, just a small space of table that held infinite sadness in its smooth wood), but Mary felt odd during dinner. She was quiet, thinking about Sybil. Her mind had only two tracks now, her sister and her baby. By now, they felt connected, somehow, in Mary's head. It was hard to believe that it had only been a week since either of these things had entered her life. Altered her life. Ten days ago, she had had no idea of what would come to pass. She hated that. It was hard to remember what she had ever thought about before.

"Mary, are you quite all right?" Robert asked, startling Mary out of her thoughts. "You keep clutching your stomach and you've hardly eaten a bite."

Mary looked down and realized her left hand was, indeed, resting on her abdomen. She quickly moved it. "Oh, I'm fine, Papa. Just thinking. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, my girl," Robert replied in a softer voice. He passed a hand over his eyes, and thick grief, always waiting to surround them, fell over the table. Cora, however, did not miss the look that passed between her daughter and son-in-law, nor the fact that Mary's hand drifted back to her stomach for a brief moment before she resumed eating.

Cora watched her daughter closely when they retired to the sitting room, but Mary didn't notice. She and Matthew stood at the fireplace, talking quietly. Mary's hand was on Matthew's, her fingers lightly touching his wrist just under his sleeve. She didn't want to break contact with him. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to be happy again. He was talking about the estate, and Mary was only half-listening.

"I want to go to bed," she said.

"I'm sorry; I must be boring you," Matthew said, squeezing her hand.

"No, it's not that," Mary replied. "I just want… Can we please go upstairs?"

Matthew nodded and announced to the room that they were going to turn it. No one blinked, though it was still very early in the evening. Since Sybil, everything had been topsy-turvy. If someone wanted to sleep, she was allowed to sleep. The Crawleys treated each other as if they were all about to crumble to dust, alternating between being the comforter and the comforted. No one questioned Mary's desire to go to bed.

Mary held tightly to Matthew's hand as they walked upstairs. He was quiet, waiting. He had had enough practice with Mary to know not to push her, even when he dearly wanted to take her into his arms and ask if everything was all right.

When they reached the bedroom, Mary shut the door behind them, grabbed Matthew's arm and kissed him hard. There were tears on her face when they broke apart.

"Mary, what…"

"I just wanted to be with you," she said. "I just… I don't know." She hugged him, and Matthew held her tightly. She felt his chest moving against hers with his breath, the soft skin of his neck under her chin, the smell of his hair. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Thank God for this.

Matthew kissed her cheek before they finally let go. "My darling."

There was a storm brewing behind Mary's eyes. At first, Matthew thought it was grief, but it was mixed with a familiar look, an old one. Restlessness, or passion. Fear and desire at the same time. Mary was very good at being scared of what she wanted. Matthew brought his hands around to her stomach. He bent down and kissed it. Mary made a noise between a laugh and a sigh, and Matthew raised his head to kiss her lips. They looked at each other for a long moment.

"I miss you," Mary whispered.

"God, Mary, I miss you, too." Matthew's voice was hoarse.

She put a hand to his cheek and kissed him firmly. Mary pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and she felt him smile under her kiss. She missed the days when they had smiled. This baby would let them smile again.

They hadn't made love since before Sybil's death, and they did it more tenderly than any time Mary could remember, except perhaps just after their wedding. Her eyes were wet again as she lay curled in her husband's arms, and when she looked up at Matthew, she saw a tear rolling down his cheek, too.

"I don't think I've ever cried so often in my life," Mary said with a dark laugh. "I can't seem to be able to stop."

"I know," Matthew murmured. He shifted to be able to look her fully in the face. "But right now, it's not because I'm sad. I am, but it's because I have you. I'm so glad. So very glad."

"Me too," Mary whispered. "

"Truly?"

It only took her a moment to nod. "Truly. Even amidst the sadness."

"You have always been the light in my life, Mary," Matthew said. "In the terrible times, you've always given me a reason to be happy."

Mary laughed. "I should hardly say that, darling," she said. "I believe I have caused a great deal of pain in your life."

Matthew shook his head, pulling her to him. She nestled her head on his chest, under his chin. "During the war, it was the thought of you that kept me going. Always. And when I was injured, and you cared for me…"

He trailed off, and Mary understood, for that territory was fraught with complications involving Lavinia. Still, she felt the truth of his words, maybe for the first time. She really had been his stick, even when she'd thought she could never have him.

"And now. The worst has come, yet here we are," Matthew said, tickling soft fingertips across her bare stomach. "You've always given me hope."

"Oh, darling." Mary pressed against him. "Even if there isn't a baby, Matthew…. Having you is enough." He was quiet, and Mary tipped her face to kiss his jaw. "But I do hope it's in there. Our little boy or girl."

"You seem much happier about it than you did earlier this week."

"Well, you're right. We have to let ourselves be happy. It was something Anna said that made me realize."

"She is wise, isn't she?" Matthew chuckled.

"Very," Mary said, smiling. She looked up at Matthew. "Perhaps if it's a boy, we can name it after your father," she said softly.

"Really?" Matthew scooted down to be eye level with his wife, and she could see the emotion in his face. He kissed her. "I thought we weren't talking about names."

Mary shrugged. "I was just thinking. I'd like to name it after him. If you want to."

"I do. Very much. And if it's a girl?"

Mary smiled mischievously. "I thought perhaps Violet."

"Crikey." They both laughed. "Well, if she has a spirit anything like yours and your grandmother's, I think that would be quite fitting."

"Good." Mary pulled the blankets up around their shoulders and snuggled closer to Matthew. "Sometimes I don't know how I'll carry on," she said against his chest. "But then I see you. And I know somehow we'll get through it."

"We will," Matthew said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Like we always have. We'll brave the storm."

"We certainly have practice at that," Mary laughed. She let her eyes close as his arms tightened around her, and she stroked his arm. His warm palm covered her stomach, and even though the storm still raged around them, and grief still suffocated the house, and part of Mary's heart was forever broken without Sybil, there was peace and calm within their embrace.

_A/N: So I did a second chapter! This was harder to write because I imagine Mary's feelings to be so complicated and I wanted to do them all justice. But chapter 3 is already planned so check back soon :) Thanks for reading! x_


	3. Chapter 3

A gentle breeze wove its way through the village, rustling the leaves on the trees and sending the sweet smell of blooming flowers into the air. It was still early, and the mid-morning sun bathed the town in fresh light, drying the puddles that remained from the unseasonable rain that had poured over the last few days. Mary took a deep breath of air as she left the hospital, trying to steady her shaky legs. She suppressed the smile that was threatening to form on her lips in spite of herself; she could not be seen walking through town with a ridiculous grin on her face. Mary took a deep breath and let her hand settle on her stomach. Dr. Clarkson's words echoed in her head: _I can confirm, with a fair amount of certainty, that you are indeed carrying a child. _ Mary swallowed and glanced down at her belly. Matthew would be so happy. How would she tell him? There was an hour or so before they would have to dress for dinner; perhaps she could pull him away to take a walk. And when should she tell Mama and Papa? Common sense told her to wait a while, just in case, but she thought she would burst if she had to keep it a secret any longer.

She thought about Matthew as she walked, of Matthew and their past and how improbable this happiness seemed. Was it wrong of her to be feeling lucky at a time like this? Even as she held within her an indomitable anger at the world over the loss of Sybil, and a deep, unrelenting store of grief, she felt grateful, too.

Mary's thoughts were on her husband, but her feet took their own path, and suddenly she found herself standing at the gate of the cemetery. She put a gloved hand to the cold wrought iron and pushed it open slowly. It creaked, and there was no other noise around her save for the rustling of the wind in the trees.

Mary had not yet visited to Sybil's grave, except at the funeral. Matthew had asked her what she was waiting for, and she had replied that she was too sad to go, but now Mary knew: she had been waiting for this. She approached the fresh patch of dirt slowly, her feet taking her down the grassy aisle with a certain amount of reverence. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but other than that, she felt unexpectedly calm.

The air stilled as Mary came to stand in front of the cold gray stone. It rose up out of the dirt as if it was supposed to serve as some extension of Sybil, and Mary resented it a little for this. She let her fingers float over its engraving as she sank to the ground. The dirt was soft under her knees, still relatively fresh. Mary hated it; Sybil's grave should be covered with flowers. She would come back later and plant some.

"Oh, Sybil, how I wish you were here," Mary breathed. She laced her fingers together on her knees and stared at the headstone. "I'm having a baby, Sybil," she said. "Just like you hoped I would. We could have raised them together. You would have helped me be a good mother, I know it." Mary stopped to catch her breath. Dirt from her gloves smeared onto her face when she wiped her eyes. "You would have been the best mother of us all. But don't worry," Mary said, trying to force some cheer into her voice. "We'll watch over baby Sybil. She'll know all the love in the world. And she'll have a little cousin. They can grow up like siblings. She'll never be alone."

Mary was crying now, and she bowed her head, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, my darling," she cried. "Why did you have to leave us? I want you back. I want you to help me with my baby. It needs its aunt. I need its aunt." Mary's voice was ragged.

A lilting breeze stirred the air, and birds were chirping somewhere. Mary pressed her hands to her thighs and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself. "It's such timing, Sybil," she said, attempting a lighter tone. "I like to think it happened for a reason. Perhaps it did. This is your baby, too, in a way. I can't think of it without thinking of you. And I know you'll help me to be a good mother even though you aren't here. I'll think of you always. And we'll tell the children stories about you, and they'll know you as much as if you were here. I promise." Mary swallowed, blinking back tears. "I'll come back, sweet darling. I'll be back often, and you can watch the baby grow. And I'll bring some flowers next time, make this look nicer. Oh, Sybil," Mary said, letting out a shaky sigh. "I pray for a fraction of your strength. I pray you'll give it to me, wherever you are now. I know you would if you were here."

She stood slowly and brushed the dirt off her knees and coat. "I love you," she said softly. "I'll be back, darling."

Mary wiped her eyes thoroughly, made sure she was presentable, and started walking back toward the gate. She felt strangely better, even though she had allowed the aching sadness to consume and fill her once again. But though it wrapped around her heart with its usual iron hands, it felt different today. Today, there was a tiny bit of warmth, too, a flame that perhaps Sybil had left for Mary to burn. Mary concentrated on that feeling. She wanted to hold onto it forever. It wasn't until she was almost to the gate that she glanced up, and she stopped abruptly.

"Hello, Mama," she managed to call out, clearing her throat. Cora was standing a few paces past the gate, watching her daughter with a small smile on her face.

"Hello, my darling." Cora extended her arms and clasped Mary's hands when she reached her.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Just a few minutes. I didn't want to disturb you. I came to see Sybil."

Mary nodded. "I think we ought to plant some flowers on her grave."

"That's a lovely idea," Cora said. "I'll ask Mrs. Hughes if—"

"No," Mary said. "I'll do it myself."

Cora smiled and touched Mary's cheek. "My brave, brave girl," she whispered. "You've been through so much. I remember when you were born, and I looked at you, so perfect in my arms, and I hoped that I could spare you from every ill in the world." She laughed bitterly. "But the world doesn't work that way."

"No, it doesn't," Mary said, turning her face to the side. Her eyes roamed across the cemetery. "It does work in strange ways, though. Sometimes."

"Mary," Cora began, a frown flitting across her countenance, "can I ask you something?"

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Of course."

"Are you and Matthew having a baby?"

Surprise glanced across Mary's face, and Cora knew she was right. Her suspicions had been confirmed the moment she'd seen Mary kneeling at Sybil's grave.

"How did you know?" Mary asked.

Cora shrugged. "A mother knows these things sometimes," she replied. "Oh, my dear. You really are?" A smile spread across her face, and Mary allowed her own expression to echo her mother's happiness.

"Yes," she said. "I am." She laughed, and her mother hugged her tightly.

"Oh, my dear. I'm so very happy for you. For all of us." There were tears in Cora's eyes.

"You are? You're not terribly frightened?"

Cora smiled. "No," she whispered. "No, I'm not. You're going to be just fine."

Mary looked at her, feeling tears spring into her own eyes. She nodded and wrapped her arms around her mother. "Thank you, Mama," she said in a deep voice thick with tears.

Cora rubbed her daughter's back, and then she pulled away to look at her tummy. She placed a hand on it. "Hello, my little grandchild," she said. "We're so excited to meet you. And you already have the most beautiful cousin in the world."

Cora put her hands to Mary's cheeks, and then she slid an arm around her daughter's waist. Together, they turned back towards Downton. They walked quietly for a few moments, each lost in though.

"Can I ask you something now, Mama?" Mary said. She paused. "When are you going to forgive Papa?"

"Oh, Mary—"

"I'm serious," Mary said. "He's punishing himself, too, you know. And I'd say his own thoughts are even harsher than yours. Besides, you're torturing yourself."

"Mary, why are you bringing this up? I simply can't…." Cora trailed off with a little sob and put a hand to her mouth.

"There was a chance she could have lived, Mama," Mary said, and she had to press back tears, too. "But don't you think there was a greater chance she wouldn't have? Even if we had followed Dr. Clarkson's advice? Who knows what would have happened. We can't live our lives wondering." Mary stopped for a moment to collect herself. "Regret will cripple you forever, worse than grief. We were all acting as we thought best, and it was all probably beyond our control no matter what. Please, Mama. You need Papa. Especially now. And he needs you."

Cora was crying, but her voice was strong when she spoke. "Do you really think she would have died anyway?"

"I don't want to think it," Mary said. "I wish as much as you do that we had let Dr. Clarkson operate. But it's probably true."

Her mother nodded. "You always were wiser than the rest of us," she said with a rueful smile.

Mary laughed. "I know what it is to be married now, Mama. And I know what it is to lose someone. Go to Papa. Please."

Mary didn't bother to take off her coat or hat when they got back to the house. They found Robert and Matthew in the library, talking over some papers. Mary was quite glad they came in when they did, for it looked like her husband and father were on the brink of another argument about the estate.

"Hello," Robert said tentatively. His hand flexed, but he did not reach for Cora. "How was your trip?"

"Good," his wife said simply. "Thank you." Well, it was a small improvement. Cora raised her eyebrows at Mary.

"Matthew, might I steal you away for a few moments?" Mary asked lightly.

"I was just about to show him this ledger," Robert began. "Perhaps later, Mary—"

"Robert, let him go. You can show him later," Cora interrupted. "Go on, you two."

"Well, all right," Matthew said. "Perhaps after dinner, Robert."

Mary gave her mother a stern look as she led Matthew out of the room, leaving her parents alone. They stopped in the foyer, and Mary turned to her husband.

"I thought we might take a walk," she said, smoothing his lapels and then reaching up to press a hand to his cheek.

"All right," Matthew said. "Is something going on?"

Mary just smiled and took his hand. "Come on," she laughed. Matthew followed her outside and they began walking across the lawn. Mary waited a few minutes to speak.

"I just came from the hospital," she finally said. She glanced at Matthew.

He stopped walking. "You did?"

"Yes," Mary said, turning to face him. She allowed him take his hands in hers.

"And?" Fear and excitement mingled in Matthew's eyes, and Mary felt a surge of love for him. He held his breath.

"I am," Mary breathed. She smiled. "I'm pregnant, Matthew."

"Oh, Mary!" Matthew hugged her hard; he picked her up and spun her off the ground. "My darling! We're really going to have a baby?"

Mary nodded. "Yes." She kissed him. They both had tears in their eyes.

"Mary, Mary," Matthew murmured. He kissed her over and over, all over her face, and then he knelt and trailed kisses across her stomach. "My darling, my heart," he said, rising to cup Mary's face in his hands. "I love you so very much."

"I love you, too," Mary breathed. "I'll love you forever."

Matthew pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. Their hands made their way to her stomach again, overlapping sweetly. "And I love you, little baby Crawley," Matthew murmured. "We love you so much already."

_A/N: Hello! A shorter one this time, but I am having trouble getting the next scene quite right, so I thought I would post this much for now. The next chapter is in the works, though, and Matthew and Mary will let the rest of the family in on their big news. I know this one was more of the same baby fluff, but I hope you enjoyed the trip to Sybil's grave. Let me know what you think! And where do you think the story should go from here? Reviews = inspiration :) _


	4. Chapter 4

_Clink. Clink. _Mary's earrings fell onto her vanity angrily, their sound echoing in the silent room. Her necklace followed with a clatter.

"Mary—"

A double thud as her shoes hit the ground. Each noise felt like a strike at Matthew, and he tried to stay calm from his spot on the bed.

"Matthew, please leave," Mary said. "I have to call Anna, and I'm tired."

Matthew stood, trying not to be stung by her dismissal of him. He let a sneaky smile play about his lips. "I… I told Anna she could have the rest of the evening off."

Mary turned in her chair and fixed Matthew with a death stare. "You dismissed my maid for me?"

"I thought we would celebrate tonight, my darling," he said, coming closer. "I didn't want anyone undressing you but me." He gave Mary a look she usually couldn't resist, but she turned her back to him and fiercely began working her tiara out of her hair.

"I suppose you want to take down my hair for me, too?" she said sarcastically.

"Yes, I do," Matthew said quietly. He let his fingers brush the curve of her neck as he moved them to her dark hair and slowly began to pull out the pins. He let out a quiet sigh as his fingers continued, searching for all the hidden pins in her silky hair. He had wanted to do this for so long, but Mary always had Anna do it before he came to bed. Her hair was like magic to him.

Mary sighed. Well, that had backfired. She tapped her foot in agitation, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands in her hair. "Dinner was a disaster," she finally said.

"It wasn't a _disaster_, Mary."

"Yes, it was. Tom was wonderful about it at least, saying he'd suspected all along. I was most afraid of his reaction, and then he was the best."

"You know Edith was never going to jump up and down squealing," Matthew said. "I thought she was pretty nice, all things considering."

"But Papa." Mary rolled her eyes. "Why is he like that? I suppose I should have expected it, him saying all those things about it being a boy. But it made me so angry. Oh, god, why did we have to argue? And then Mama. That's exactly what we need around here, another reason for her to be angry at him."

After Robert had made some ill-chosen remarks about the sex of the baby, Cora and Mary had both snapped at him. Mary had nearly yelled at him, surprised by the sudden fierceness that rose up in her at the suggestion that her child might not be good enough. They had all retired early, with tension still hanging in the air and Cora back to giving her husband to the silent treatment. Mary stared at her pale reflection in the mirror, Matthew standing above her, his eyes lovingly trained on her hair. She wanted to give in to the tears threatening behind her eyes, but she was so sick of crying. Her baby was supposed to be _good_ news, supposed to bring some cheer back to the house, not open old wounds and make everything worse.

Matthew sighed. "I won't pretend that Robert and I are seeing eye-to-eye on very much these days," he said. "All this business with the estate… But he just wants what's best for Downton, like we all do. I understand."

Mary locked eyes with her husband in the mirror, a cold, hard stare. She stood, knocking the stool into Matthew's knees, and her hair fell about her shoulders as she walked to the window, away from Matthew, too angry to speak. When she turned to face him, incredulity and something Matthew feared was disappointment simmered in her eyes.

"Matthew," Mary said, her voice reaching the deep cadence it attained only when she was really hurt, "I hope you do not mean what you just said."

"I didn't mean I _agreed_ with your father! I only said I understand where he's coming from. He's a product of a different time, a different generation. He was taught to think like that. You know he'll love our child no matter what. He loves you."

Mary shook her head. "You don't understand."

"Mary! How can you say that? I was here for all that business with the entail. Who knows better than me?"

"He may love me," Mary said quietly, "but the fact remains that I was a disappointment to him. I should have been a boy. You don't know what it was like when he finally got his son." She sank down on the edge of the bed. "And I am _glad _he thinks of you that way, Matthew, truly I am. I would hate it if he thought of my husband as anything less. I know you are the man he wanted for me, not because you are the heir, but because you're good, and brave, and…" Mary pressed a hand to her mouth, collecting herself. "Papa loves me, but he didn't fight for me," she finally said in a thick voice.

"Mary, he did—"

"No," she interrupted. "He didn't. I know there wasn't a legal solution with the entail in the end, but he wasn't interested in looking for one. He still, after all those years, just wanted his son. And I don't begrudge you that," she added earnestly, looking up at Matthew. "But he didn't want to fight for me. That's why Granny went to you and asked you to look at the law. Because we knew Papa was a lost cause. Because _I_ was lost to _him_. I was never enough for him, as the eldest. Not quite." Mary raised her face, and her eyes blazed with intensity. "Matthew, if this baby is a girl, promise me you will fight for her. Promise me you won't be disappointed—" She broke off with a little sob.

Matthew knelt down in front of Mary. With gentle thumbs, he wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. He took her hands in his and waited for her to raise her eyes.

"Mary," he said, holding her gaze to his, "I would fight for her until the end of time. You must know I will love this baby no matter who or what it is. I already love it. I don't care if it is a boy or a girl. Things are changing, and I don't believe the entail law will last forever. Even if it does, I will find a way to protect and provide for our daughter. For all our children."

Mary looked at him, her watery eyes full of something she could not say with words. "Oh, Matthew," she whispered, lacing her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

Matthew pressed a hand to the back of Mary's head, breathing in her flowery scent and thinking about the tiny, tiny baby that sat between their bodies. He slid his hands under her legs and picked her up. Mary left her arms clasped around his neck as Matthew settled them both down on the bed.

"Do you want to know, though, Mary, what I imagine when I think about our child?" Matthew stroked her hair almost absentmindedly as he spoke. Mary closed her eyes, listening to the deep vibrations of his voice through his chest. "I imagine a little girl. I always do; I don't know why. A tiny little girl who looks exactly like you, who I can hold in my arms and protect forever."

Mary looked up at him, her eyes full again with that look that made Matthew go weak. She shifted up to kiss him, pushing her hands through his hair. "I imagine a girl, too," Mary said. "But my girl has your eyes."

Matthew pulled Mary down on top of him and kissed her again. "Our daughter will be beautiful," he murmured. "And if it is a girl, and she's the first, then she'll be proud of the privilege, for she'll know that her mama was the eldest daughter, too. And look how perfect _she _is. Look how she's always held the family together, how she's always strong and good and loving. Our little girl will be just like her." He kissed Mary's forehead. "I love you, my darling."

Mary sank down on Matthew's chest again and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. "Soon we'll be able to see her, a little. I'm going to get very large, you know."

"I know." Matthew's voice rolled over the words like it was the best thing he had ever heard. "And you will be even more beautiful than you are now, if that's possible."

"Matthew?" Mary said after a moment. She traced a light finger across his chest, realizing that they still hadn't changed out of their dinner clothes. "I'm sorry if it sounded like I doubted you. I know you'll love our daughter. I just needed…"

"I know," Matthew said. "I know, my darling."

"You fought for me," Mary said abruptly. "Even then, when it was your own inheritance at stake. You looked at the law. You tried, didn't you?" She propped herself up on one arm, looking at him seriously.

"Yes, I did," Matthew said.

"Why?"

He rubbed her arm. "Because I think I already loved you then."

Mary pressed a tremulous smile to his lips. "I think I loved you too. But I didn't know it," she said with a characteristic eye roll. "Did you?"

"Know that I loved you? Yes, I think I did. But I didn't know that you loved me. I hoped you would. I thought you might, sometimes. But you didn't make the chase easy," he said with a smile.

Mary's eyes glittered. "I suppose I didn't." She leaned down and kissed him, lingering over his lips until they were both out of breath. "Now, did you really dismiss Anna?" Mary whispered.

Matthew nodded, his hands going to her hair. "But I did a good job with your hair, did I not?"

Mary smiled. "Can you do as good a job with my dress?"

"Better, I should say."

"Well, then, let's see it, Mr. Crawley."

The next morning, they didn't awake until after Anna had already come in to open the curtains. The morning light was gentle as Mary's eyes fluttered open. She turned on her side and smoothed a hand across her husband's chest.

"Good morning, darling," she whispered. A smile appeared on Matthew's face before he had even opened his eyes, and he turned to face Mary.

"Good morning."

"Did you know we are having a baby?" Mary said softly. She smiled, stroking his hair.

"Yes, I did," Matthew said languidly. "She's right here." He covered Mary's stomach, still so flat, with his hands, and it was only a moment before his lips followed. Mary laughed, and she kissed him thoroughly when he returned.

"She's right between us," Mary said, pressing her body against his. "Isn't that amazing?"

Matthew nodded. "It's a miracle."

_Hope you enjoyed the conflict and fluff :) I've been so busy so I haven't replied individually, but thank you so much for all the reviews! I am kind of running out of steam on this fic, so I think this will be the last chapter for now unless I get any brilliant ideas. Thank you for reading + reviewing! xx_


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